


Centuries (In The ER)

by Science_Cat



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Emergency room, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mention of injuries but it isn't graphic, Peterick, So fuck off with your archive warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Science_Cat/pseuds/Science_Cat
Summary: Meeting while waiting for hours on end in the emergency room AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What's that? I haven't written in a long ass time? Well shit, you gotta do it at 3 in the morning. The sad product of my 3-am-delirious-as-fuck-self-hatred-fueled-writing-extravaganza. 
> 
> In all seriousness, as always excuse any errors, and I hope you enjoy. Feedback is welcome.

Ah yes, Jackass 2.0. Flipping over roadblocks? Kid stuff. Somersaulting down the steep hill behind your apartment? No sweat. Trying to jumping off of a relatively high roof into a swimming pool? Ouch. Pro tip: that’s why there are diving boards. Then again when you’re drunk diving boards are child’s play. Joe might’ve broken arm. Said injury might’ve been due to a slightly intoxicated Pete Wentz. Usually, this situation is reversed. It’s at this ungodly hour in the morning Joe hauls Pete’s dumb ass to the ER. Yet, there he was in the bland waiting room, in a worn down padded chair with a horrendous shade of green. The black-framed wall clock that never seems to move normally. Pictures of beaches, plants, flowers neatly sprawled on each beige wall. A tiny, cherry-wood table across from him holding various health magazines on its surface. Underneath it the familiar bleak, white tiles of the ER. The eternal hell of the ER waiting room. Gaze shifting from dull scenery to dull scenery. 

A television hangs in one corner displaying repetitive commercials. “At least it isn’t that sad animal abuse commercial.” Pete thinks, his thoughts wandering. 

There’s a small play corner for young children that is absent of anyone’s presence. For the most part, the ER is relatively empty of its usual discomfort: crying babies, people coughing and wheezing, complaints. While technically a good situation, it only makes Pete even more bored out of his mind waiting for Joe. All kinds of people come into an ER, nervous loved ones, bitchy mothers, accident prone freaks. People watching in an ER gets to become kind of interesting. Besides himself, there’s perhaps six others in the waiting room with him. All of which don’t seem too impressive, most of them asleep or in a daze such as his. There’s a relatively older man sleeping in a chair not too far down from him, and the thought of sleep swims through his mind. It seems inviting after so many hours without it. He tilts his head back, the base of his skull gently meeting the wall. But he doesn’t try to fall asleep. Not here anyway. Despite it being quiet and bland, the ER always carries a distinct anxiousness in which Pete finds it impossible to fall asleep in. Instead, he just rests, hoping Joe hasn’t actually broken an arm. A broken arm or not, Joe would beat his ass. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the swoosh of the automatic doors opening, a cold breezing following in whoever entered the building. Pete listens, but he doesn’t look. At least the rumble of gurney wheels don’t follow, but instead a shuffle; like that of someone with a limp. There’s small, quiet chatter at the front desk, presumably from the person who just entered. The shuffle comes closer toward Pete’s area, “Great. It better not be some chatty ass grandma or something,” an internal exasperated sigh at the thought of trying to communicate like a normal human being at 3 in the morning. The soft shuffle of boots is replaced by the creak of the worn, waiting room chair holding the newfound weight of a body across from him. Right across from him, _really though?_

Pete tilts his head down to look at this ass who decided to sit right across from him in a nearly empty waiting room. Clearly, now it is Pete who is the ass and certainly not the insanely adorable guy across from him. Hell, he can come sit right next to Pete for all he cares. His eyes are on a television screen elsewhere, but Pete’s eyes are on him. Whatever thoughts of sleep and numbness are gone, and replaced with interest. The guy doesn’t seem to be at his best, slightly messed up gingerish hair, tired, yet soft looking blue eyes behind thick, black frames. Although his expression seems blank, the younger man’s illegal looking lips seem to be upturned ever so slightly in a sort of knowing smirk. It strikes Pete that he’s quite pale; not at all in a bad way by any means. And he thought Joe was pale. He’s bundled appropriately, leather jacket put off with the exception of Batman pajama bottoms; adding more charm to this angel of a human being Pete is seeing in front of him. ~~He looks at him and thinks, “Damn he t h i c c…”~~

“I know for a fact that you’re not deeply interested in ShamWow. You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”  
Ah yes, a sarcastic, yet heavenly voice to match that face. Pete confirms and notices the infomercial going on in the background for a split second.

“You don’t know me. Maybe I have many liquids I need to clean up that only a ShamWow could fix. Or maybe I think Vince over there’s one attractive dude.” Pete smirks back, he could play this game.

“Oh right, of course, you definitely rest your eyes with a soft look and a slight smile to a man who’s slapped a hooker and looks like he does coke on a daily basis.” Waiting room guy says, with amused eyes and quirked eyebrows.

“...I happen to like bad boys.” He says after a minute of thought, a broad grin encompassing his face.

A moment of silence, then a genuine laugh with shaking shoulders bursts out from across him, echoing slightly through the ER. Pete can’t help but double over in his own laughter. A moment later of catching some breath, and subsiding into giggles, Pete looks around to see a few glares from disturbed sleepers. Glancing at the clock, he’s completely forgotten he’d been in an ER for the past hour and a half of his night. Still, he finds trouble finding guilt for being overly loud.

“Well, I’m no “bad boy” named Vince, but I’m Patrick. I don’t usually say pleased to meet you in an emergency room, but pleased to meet you.” Patrick offers a hand to shake and a shy smile.

Pete takes it, surprised to be met with calloused hands.

“I’m Pete, there’s a first time for everything isn’t there?” Pete reaffirms with his own warm smile. 

“Very true. You look tired, have you been waiting for a long time?” Patrick motions his head towards the clock Pete’s been fixated on.

“No, not compares to some other times. It’s just my face.” Pete explains with sort of small smile that could easily come across as sad. Maybe there was a bit of sadness to it after all. 

“Why’d you come in here for? Looks like you’ve busted your leg or something,” he asks a question in return.

“It may or may not be broken,” Patrick says sheepishly, “But let’s just say it involved chasing a small dog in an equally small apartment. I take it you’re waiting for someone?”

“My friend Joe actually, he may have broken something too. Which may or may not have been my fault.” Pete returns a sheepish look of his own. He noticed the ever so slight look of relief at the mention of friend.

Speaking of the devil. Pete spots the familiar Joe-esque fro coming out of an examination room, flipping him off. Slightly pissed, slightly amused yet, cast free- the important part. Pete’s new friend has directed his attention towards Joe as well, with an ever expanding grin. 

“I’m going to take a lucky guess and say that’s Joe.” A chuckle follows the slightly sarcastic statement.

Joe walks over next to Pete socking him in the side of his arm, hard. Pete recoils and winces. Okay, maybe he deserved that.

“That’s for the almost broken arm and a shit ton of extra money I had to pay for an x-ray. Had it not been for the fact we’re in a hospital, I would’ve totally kicked your ass right here.” Joe glares at him, but he picks up on the caring undertone, “Oh, and your friend over here. Judging by the previous turn of head, I guess you must know I’m Joe, this asshole over here’s best and probably only friend.” A shit-eating grin spreads onto Joe’s face as he shakes Patrick’s hand. Pete already knows they would totally hit it off, it’s like a sixth sense or some shit. Just then, the middle-aged nurse at the front desk calls for Patrick’s name. Which he seems to faintly wince at his entire name being called out loud, Patrick Martin Stumph.  
_“Interesting.”_ Pete thinks and gets a total kick out of. 

“Ah well, it was nice getting to meet you guys,” he glances at Joe, “Even if it was for a minute or two. Time for me to hobble over to the desk over there.”

“I could help you over there,” Pete offers, “I could carry you bridal style,” he says amused, flashing the signature Wentz smile. One might think he’s kidding, but for anyone who’s actually met Pete, they know he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Down boy,” Joe smirks at Pete. Pete resists the urge to punch Joe in his bad arm, and settles for an eye roll. 

Patrick lets out a short, hearty chuckle.“Technically he’s not wrong, you gotta get to know a guy just a little better before jumping to carrying him full on bridal style.” 

“Fair enough,” Pete says, slightly embarrassed, but taking it with pride. It was worth a shot.  
Both Joe and Pete help Patrick over to the desk, saving the need for a wheelchair.

“Thanks for that.” Patrick leans against the counter, he takes a pen a napkin off of it and scribbles down a phone number. “Here. Just in case I do get a cast, and I need someone to sign it,” he winks at Pete with a smile so genuinely sweet it sends an unexpected rush of warmth through him.

Pete light up like a child on Christmas morning. A Cheshire cat grin of satisfaction on his face sticks as Joe drags him out of the awakening ER, rolling his eyes.


End file.
